


Used To

by NotRoyalty



Series: Used To [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A little angst, A little funny, Bucky runs away a lot, Drabble, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One-Shot, Steve tries to help Bucky, not actually that funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 17:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1519709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRoyalty/pseuds/NotRoyalty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve sees Bucky from time to time, but Bucky isn't too keen on hanging out. Sort of 'the five times Steve tried to go to Bucky and the one time Bucky came to him.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used To

Steve was used to war. 

He'd been in one before he took his little ice nap, and he was barely awake again before aliens fell out of the sky and plunged him right back into combat mode. Then the very organization he had thought would give him a purpose had crashed down around his ears. Steve was used to living in a world flying by the seat of its pants. 

Perhaps that's why Steve could feel it when someone was watching him. 

He'd almost gotten used to it, that tingling on the back of his neck that whispered,  _someone's watching you_. A lot of people watched him when he was out in public; he was Captain America after all.

But he wasn't used to it in his own apartment. 

Steve first felt that all too familiar tingle when he was patching the holes in his wall. Pausing, he frowned for a minute before moving to the dark window. There was nothing in the windows across the road, so Steve returned to the wall, shrugging it off as nothing. 

The tingling didn't go away. 

Steve went back to the window. 

Peering closely out into the shadows, his eyes moved to the roof of the building. 

_Bucky._

He was just there; perched on the edge of the building wearing all black with is dark hair hanging lankly around his face. 

But not for long, as soon as he noticed Steve watching him back, Bucky -or was he still the Winter Soldier?- leapt back up onto the building and darted out of view.

"Bucky!" Steve shouted, but his voice just bounced back at him against the glass. Even if he left now, Bucky had enough of a head start that there was no catching him. 

Steve returned to patching his wall.

* * *

The next time was at Fury's grave with Natasha. They had taken up meeting there for some unknown reason whenever Natasha stopped by. She always had some reason for being in DC, but Steve suspected that she came to check up on him. 

"I'm just saying," she shrugged, "you should ask her out. She obviously likes you."

"I've spoken to her like five times," Steve protested. "She works at the coffee shop, that's all."

"If you don't like her, you just have to say," she replied with a little smile.

"It's not that I don't like her," Steve amended. "I just don't think we should..." he trailed off.

"Date?" Natasha finished.

"Yeah," he nodded. 

 _Someone's watching you_ , said the prickle on the back of his neck.

Steve turned, scanning the tree line. Ever since the night in his apartment, he had half hoped that he would see Bucky every time he felt it, but every time it had been someone else. 

But this time... Steve spotted the figure in an almost ostentatiously black hoodie lurking behind a tree. 

Knowing that Natasha had seen him too, Steve set off running towards the tree without a word. Just like before, Bucky took off too, sprinting with his sliver hand flashing in the afternoon sun.

"Wait!" Steve shouted as the neared the parking lot. 

The soldier didn't turn, just vaulted into a car. Steve was so close that he reached out his fingers and brushed the bumper before it sped out of reach. 

"How many times has that happened?" Natasha asked, coming up behind him.

"Just once," he replied, the disappointment and sadness clouding his tone. "This is the second time."

Natasha nodded, eyes watching the road where Bucky had disappeared. "He'll be back," she said.

Steve nodded back, that tiny consolation easing the fissure in his chest. 

* * *

 "Star Wars is the best," Sam insisted, nearly bumping into a telephone pole in his enthusiasm. "Anyone who tells you Star Trek is better is clearly confused."

"Alright," Steve laughed, shaking his head.

"How are you not at least a little drunk?" Sam asked, looking at him suspiciously. "You had just as many shots as I did."

"I can't," Steve shrugged. "Just another perk of being Captain America."

Sam stared at him for a moment in silence, and then said, "I bet you're real thankful for that in the mornings after," he said.

Steve laughed, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder for a moment as his smile faded. "Bucky always complained about it," he said quietly as the tingle returned to the back of his neck.

Turning, Steve looked up at the rooftops surrounding them. Sure enough, there was Bucky, looking down at him.

"Is that-" Sam began, but Bucky disappeared. 

"I think he's following me," Steve said.

"But why?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I hope it's because he remembers me, if only a little."

"Are you sure he's not still on his mission to kill you?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

"I told you," Steve insisted, still looking up at the rooftop as if Bucky would suddenly appear again. "He saved me from the river; he doesn't want me dead."

"That doesn't mean you two should go get a drink and hang out," Sam said.

"Bucky is my best friend, and whatever was done to him, he still knows that deep down." Steve was sure of that. 

* * *

The fourth time it happened, Steve was alone again. It was before dawn and he was jogging. Sam wouldn't be out today for another half an hour, and the city was just starting to hum with life. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the city, the few birds singing, the comfortable thump of his feet on the ground, and the little voice in the back of his mind saying  _someone's watching you!_

Steve stopped in his tracks and started searching the line of trees, but saw nothing. Frowning, he turned to start jogging again, but then he saw the very same car that Bucky had used to escape from the graveyard. It looked terrible; there were scratches and dents riddling its tired blue paint, and there were multiple cracks in the windshield, but Steve could still see the dark, tired, broken face covered with stubble staring at him as if looking at him hard enough would make something happen. 

The second Bucky saw Steve spot him, a mask almost as dark as the one he used to wear smoothed his features, and he looked away.

The car jerked out of its parking spot, ramming the car parked beside it as it sped out. Deflating with disappointment, Steve just stood there, not moving until he saw Sam jogging towards him in the distance.

Steve left his number under the car's windshield, saying he would pay for the damage. 

* * *

The fifth time it happened, the secret service had no idea one of the most deadly assassins was barely three floors away from the President. 

Steve had been invited to a Presidential dinner (just another attempt to rally the nations spirits), and as much as he didn't like standing around and making small talk, he felt it was his duty to attend. That didn't stop him from taking frequent breaks out on the balcony, though. Social events, be they dances in Manhattan or dinners with the President used to be so much more bearable with Bucky to fall back on. 

Going without him felt like leaving himself exposed; like going into battle without his shield. 

So to the balcony Steve would go to watched the few stars that made it through the city lights. Steve had always lived in the city, so he was used to seeing fewer stars, but there was no debating that there were even less to be seen now. He wished that Bucky were there to say, "Come on man! There's a party in there waiting for us," if the party was good or "Let's ditch this," when it was lame. 

He wished Bucky was there period.

So when he felt the prickle on the back of his neck, he closed his eyes in relief. He didn't search for Bucky; he could feel him on the roof above, looking down. Moving casually, Steve turned and went back into the building, but as soon as he was clear of the doors, he rushed into the stairwell. 

Shooting up the stairs three at a time, Steve felt his heart hammer in his chest like it hadn't since he had asthma. This was the closest he'd been to Bucky since that day on the helli-carrier.

Before the door, he paused. Either go now and risk Bucky getting away again, or stay here and just enjoy the fact that Bucky was only a dozen feet away. 

Steve had never been one for hanging back.

Just as he predicted, Bucky took off like a bullet out of a gun when Steve opened the door. 

"Bucky!" Steve shouted as he neared the edge of the building.

He froze. Shoulders hunched, hair falling across his face, he turned, and the confusion and hurt on his face broke Steve's heart. 

"I can help you," Steve said, arms falling by his sides. 

The expression on Bucky's face twisted with pain and in a flash of motion, he was gone.

* * *

Steve took off his tie tiredly and dropped his keys on the counter. Leaning there, he stared at his reflection in the microwave he never used and wondered if Bucky was ever going to stay, or if he would just keep running to just out of Steve's reach. Shaking his head, he picked up his tie and wandered into his bedroom.

And there was Bucky. Steve jumped, hand responsively reaching for his shield, but when he realized that the broken form slumped on the edge of his bed was Bucky, he stopped, mouth opening in surprise. 

Bucky looked terrible. His eyes were red and his real hand shook as he stared at the wall with the most broken expression on his face. 

"I don't know who I am," he said, gravelly voice cracking. 

"It's ok," Steve said softly, and Bucky flinched as if someone had hit him. "I do."

Bucky's eyes started to wander, dancing around as if they didn't know what to fall on until the finally landed on Steve's face. Tears shone through the confusion, and Steve wondered what could have possible been done to him to make him look like this was the first time someone had been kind to him in fifty years. 

"Your name," Steve said, moving slowly towards him. "Is James Buchanan Barnes."

"I don't," he mumbled in a panicked tone as he shook his head. "I don't-"

Steve sat down next to him and put his hand carefully on Bucky's shoulder. The man jerked and became still except for the frantic breaths.

"Everyone calls" -called- "you Bucky," Steve continued, and Bucky's shoulder began to shake. "You are my best friend."

Bucky melted into him like someone had taken all his will to hold himself upright, and Steve wrapped his arms around his torso. "My name is Steve Rogers," he said calmly, pulling them back against the headboard. "You are the only reason I am here today."

Steve told him about them: what they had done together, the things they had seen, the ways they had helped each other. For hours Steve just talked, telling Bucky who he was and where he'd come from. It felt oddly familiar, sitting there talking to Bucky. He was broken, yes, barely the shadow of the jovial man he had been, but it was still the most natural thing he had done since he woke up in the future. 

"... you're the one who told me to try to join one last time," Steve said, his voice cracking tiredly. He stopped, realizing that Bucky was no longer shaking. Carefully, he pulled the hair from his forehead and looked down at his eyes, which were closed and surrounded by dark, dark shadows, and Steve found himself wondered how long it had been since Bucky had slept like this. 

He almost didn't want to know. He just wanted to stay here and watch the best friend he had ever known sleep. It was something he'd done so many times, it didn't really feel that different. Steve was used to watching him sleep and used to the way he snored a little. 

Steve was used to Bucky.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if there are any grammatical errors; I'm not the best at these things at eleven o'clock at night.


End file.
